Glimpse
by MsJadey
Summary: In Sanosuke's mind during his first meeting with Saitou--what was going on in there? one-shot, no pairing


**Title:** Glimpse

**Author:** MsJadey

**E-mail:** slashingmsjadey@hotmail.com

**Archive:** Anyone: you want it, you ask, and you got it.

**Rating:** PG

**Warnings:** violence, very mild sexuality

**Summary:** Takes place during a scene in episode 28, Saitou's first appearance.  A behind-the-scenes look at what Sanosuke might have been thinking while encountering the Wolf of Mibu.

**Disclaimer:** It all belongs to Watsuki-sensei; I hope he never finds out what I've done to his boys.  The text between "~[. . .]~" was taken from an unknown, downloaded sub version of the episode.

     ~Alright you, you wanna fight, you got it.  I'll just beat the truth outta you!~

     Sanosuke, furious, glares at the strange man he's just challenged and tries to read his intentions from his remarkable eyes.

     It's possible this guy is only one more in a long line of irritating bastards intent on messing with Kenshin, some asshole with a hard-on for vengeance or a greedy bastard after the fame of defeating the Hitokiri Battousai.  As if anyone is skilled enough to beat Kenshin.

     But something's different about this one.  Something that makes him dangerous and interesting.  Something that might have nothing to do with Kenshin.  Sanosuke is baffled by it.

     Anticipating the battle, Sano forgets about his aching stomach, the reason for his visit to the dojo in the first place. . .

_     ~Damn it, I thought I could scam a free lunch...  They're probably eatin' without me!~_

     Sanosuke is infuriated to find the dojo deserted.  He came hoping for a free meal, having reached the very end of a bad run of luck with dice, but there are no laughing children, screaming women, or oro-ing men to greet and feed him.  Just placid, mocking silence.  Well, that, and the insistent grumbles of his stomach.  He figures they've gone to the Akabeko, somehow flush with money and determined to eat all they can without him.  He fumes about the injustice of it and wonders how good the food at the Akabeko is today.

     He is preparing to storm out of the dojo, track them down, and demand to be fed, when distraction appears, tall and dark with a medicine box and a cheery "Hello!"

_     ~Hello!  Ishida Medicines out of Tama has come to peddle its wares.~_

     A man has slid open the door to the front yard, and entered.

     He is fairly ordinary looking, but something about the perfectly normal look of his clothing and the unremarkable, pleasant, cadence of his voice makes Sano curious.  It strikes Sano in a way he cannot explain.

     And as the man identifies himself as a salesman, Sano's wary curiosity grows inexplicably.  He can't name the feeling bubbling up in his gut--it's unsettling and unnerving.  There's something about the guy that wants for further explanation.

     Of course, he reasons quickly to dispel his faint nausea, it is most likely the heat doing funny things to his brain.  After all, the man speaks nicely and has a harmless look to him.  Who could smile that benignly and still deserve suspicion?

_     ~Hey, hold on.  This ain't my house.  Nobody's home right now.~_

     Caught up trying to quiet his nerves, it takes Sano a moment to realize he is about to be convinced into buying things he can't afford.  He has to throw up his hands to stop the vendor mid-pitch.

     The man, disappointed, begins repacking his merchandise.  However, crisis averted, Sanosuke's odd contemplations return, and he resumes staring at the man.

     The odd feeling intensifies.  There is something about the man's face.  Its angles and shadows.  Something is missing from it; it's incomplete.  And the man's figure--it is slightly out of order with his clothing.  Clothing that fits well, but unnaturally so.

     His conscious mind at a loss for what could be bothering him about a harmless peddler, and feeling guilty for staring so intently, Sano allows himself to blurt the first thing he can:

_     ~You got really evil eyes.~_

     Sure, it's rude, but as Sanosuke registers what he's said, he sees the truth of it.  There is something dangerous lurking around this man, despite the polite persona.

     He surprises the man as well, who straightens up, forgetting repacking, as if offended.  But he begins smiling again quickly, to show no offence taken.

_     ~They're just the ones I was born with.~_

     And Sano's suspicion grows.  There is something about this man.  Something that makes the hair on the back of Sanosuke's neck rise, something that makes his breath come harshly.  Something that makes his knuckles twitch.

     His eye catches something and his body reacts before his brain can analyze.  He grabs the man's hand.

_     ~S'that a fact?  Well, these ain't the hands of a salesman.  These are sword calluses; you weren't born with these.~_

     This is it, the familiar danger; he's seen through the man's disguise.  No pharmacist or salesman would have calluses like these.  

     It doesn't occur to him, clasping the man's hand, triumphant in his revelation, the vulnerable position he has chosen.  Bent over, focused more on the man's hand than his face or subtly-altering voice.

_     ~__You're fair at reading people...~  ___

     Sano is fixated on the man's palm, as if he can read his future in it.  The full force of the stranger's potential danger has not yet struck home.  After all, with a smile like that, how much danger can he be?

     ~_Sagara Sanosuke.~_

     And suddenly he knows.

     Most of Kenshin's challengers only think of the rurouni when they plan their attacks, totally disregarding the friends that surrounded him.  Sanosuke is not used to people knowing his name, his real name, in advance.  This man is something new, something more dangerous than the others.

     But besides hearing his full name from the stranger's lips, the thing that sends the greatest jolt through Sano's body is his glimpse of the man's fully opened eyes.

     A shiver goes down his spine as the unwelcome guest's mask of courtesy and affability disappears, the true face staring through.  The angles sharpen, the mouth thins, and a fighter's stance and build become visible beneath the peddler's disguise.

     But the burning-sun eyes are the most unnerving.  Feral, intense, omniscient, and deadly.  Sanosuke's blood begins to race.

_     ~The Battousai's out, is he?  Well, I'll leave you here as my calling card.~_

     No questions now.  The man's newly drawn hidden sword and the way he says "Battousai" prove his intention has always been to fight.

     But Sanosuke still wants to know who this man is, what his purpose at the dojo is.  Sano shouldn't care--the most important thing is that this man is a threat to his friends--but the man's mystery intrigues him.  He's never run into a fighter like this, with these eyes.

     Sanosuke growls at himself; he can't get distracted by idle thoughts.  There's only one way to get the knowledge he craves.

_     ~Alright you, you wanna fight, you got it.  I'll just beat the truth outta you!~_

     Furious, he glares at the man, trying to figure out who he is.

     It's possible this guy is just one more in a long line of irritating bastards seeking false justice or glory, but something's different about this one.

     The stranger's eyes are like nothing Sano has seen before--brilliant, violent yellow--intense and exotic enough to make Sanosuke forget about his hungry stomach.  He feels drawn to their power.  Something about these eyes tells him that this is the strongest man he has ever faced; this is a man who has tasted blood.

     Growing up, his life centered on finding the strongest men he could and studying them.  Alone in the world at nine, in a time of chaos, his life was nothing to anyone but himself.  He'd gained an appreciation about fighting from his father and the Sekihoutai, but couldn't hold his own against the thugs and thieves of the slums of Tokyo.

     In that environment, the most important thing was the strength of your fists--sheer power was the key to survival.  Ten years of careful scrutiny and reckless determination under that philosophy built him up from the weakling child Sanosuke into the feared mercenary Zanza.

     Strength always attracted him.  At first, it was suicidal fascination with the likely instrument of his death.  Later, it became necessary observation to make that strength his own.  Finally, it was an obsession with finding his next high, after finally surpassing the skills of all those around him.

     Fighting started out as an anesthetic, a way to focus on surviving instead of living, but it became a life of its own.  He had lived a fighter's existence for as long as he cared to remember, but he could not recall ever encountering a man like the one before him.

     Not with these eyes, this arrogant stance.  Not with this calm, cruel smile once so artfully disguised as kind and helpful.

     The man seems immune to the burning noon-day sun and untouched by the over-powering sense of exhilaration that throbs in every part of Sanosuke's body.

     Sano is lost in his anticipation and excitement at this new prospect.  He can even feel himself getting half erect--a thrill-induced side effect he's long grown accustomed to and never gotten tired of.  This is going to be a fight worth dying for, one like he hasn't had in too long a time.  Not since Kenshin.

     Sanosuke's wandering mind snaps back to the present--this is all wrong.  He's _already_ given up the fighter's life, relinquished his anger.  The peaceful wanderer Himura Kenshin, who was the fight worth living for and the strongest man he's ever faced, taught him to live and be happy, let go of his pain.

     Zanza is dead.

     So this man, however intoxicating his aura, is no more than one more son of a bitch for Sano to pound to pieces for threatening his new life.  There is no need for anymore contemplation than that.

     Unbalanced, shaking off his unexpected regression, Sano senses a change in the wind.  Taking this as his cue, he raises his fist, lets out a yell, and flies at the man.

     However, even as he charges, he absently notes that he can't seem to blink, as if his eyes were caught in the golden fire of the man's eyes.


End file.
